Gemotions

The rusted metal of the capsule lay exposed in the newly tilled earth. Sarah stared at it, a knot tightening in her stomach. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the familiar landscape of her childhood backyard, desperately trying to conjure any memory of this object’s placement. Nothing.

Her hands trembled as she pried it open, the screech of metal on metal echoing in the silent afternoon. Inside, a dusty shoebox sat, tied with a faded ribbon. She reached for it, her fingers clumsy and hesitant. The air felt thick, heavy, pressing down on her.

She lifted the lid and peered in. There, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper clippings and a tarnished silver locket, was a photograph. A younger version of herself, grinning, arms wrapped around a small, scruffy dog. Tears pricked her eyes as she recognized the dog, a pet she’d loved and lost long ago. She could feel a weight settling on her, the memory of some forgotten transgression.